


Where Did Everybody Go?

by Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [8]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Isolation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: He stood.It was all he could do.
Series: Tortured Tales [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520





	Where Did Everybody Go?

He stood.

Before him was a barren land filled with sickness he had failed to save, and he stood.

Behind him were the tombs of his most beloved still fresh with tears of grief, and he stood.

All around him was a dead world poisoned to the very core, and he stood.

He was completely alone, and he stood.

His ears seemed to make up sounds, though there were none, his eyes played visions that were not there, his hands felt what was not, he smelt what he had lost, and he tasted tangs of blood that was not there on his tongue.

He stood. What else could he have done?

He had failed them. Every single last soul, from those of this planet to the ones residing at the very edges of reality itself, he had failed them.

Every soul: from animate to inanimate, from molecular to massive, from Earth’s core to the outermost reaches of the universe, all was dead.

All was gone and destroyed and burnt to ash, with the sole exception of himself.

_It_ loved it.

He despised it. No matter what he did, he came back from the trauma whole. It even stole from him his self induced madness; it forced him in a state of clarity so that he could properly behold the blackening, the decay, the slow agony of every atom, and fully take in his colossal failure cursed with pure lucidity.

Look!, it said with sickening delight as its gargantuan arms of destruction opened to embrace the pitiful scene of its insatiable, all consuming hunger.

Look at what you have done! Look at what you have caused!

Look at what your stubborn denial of my perfection to this world has led to!

And it laughed, long and loud.

He told himself its voice was but another vile trick his mind was playing on him.

He stood in the darkness of a collapsed sun, feet planted firmly in the shriveled ground, and his ruby gaze stared hopelessly for miles and miles upon the futureless wasteland.

He stood in front of a silent house that would have never again heard the voice of a father and his daughter grace its rooms, and his dark ears tried to pick up the howl of a nonexistent wind.

His stomach growled in a taunt.

There was nothing to eat.

His throat scratched in anguish and thirst.

There was nothing to drink.

And _you_ caused this, it hissed with a wide ghastly smirk against his neck.

Johan inhaled stale air slowly, closing his eyes; he carefully paid attention to how his thin ribs expanded to nearly cut through skin; he exhaled without opening his mouth, timing the emptying of his lungs with the opening of his eyelids.

He stood, in the perfect unbreakable silence of the endless crypt that the entire universe had become just for him.

It laughed at him ferociously.

He did not reply.

The last man in the world had no one to reply to.


End file.
